


Grognak Redefined

by mentats_ghoul_herself



Series: Odessa and MacCready Sitting in a Tree [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cosplay, Drinking & Teasing, F/M, Fluff, Semi-Slow Burn, Sex, Smut, comic books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentats_ghoul_herself/pseuds/mentats_ghoul_herself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're sweet, MacCready, you know that?" she murmured. Her eyes were halfway closed, her chin resting on his shoulder. She wasn't so drunk that she didn't know what she was saying, but she was definitely drunk enough to say the things she had been wanting to. "You complain a lot, but you're always real sweet. And you take good care of me."</p><p>"You've got the caps, I've got the compassion," he joked, trying hard not to be flustered by drunken confession time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Here's to a year of good company, stellar headshots, and... and living in general, I guess."

Odessa raised a glass of warm beer over a dingy table at the Third Rail, her eyes wide and bright despite the four drinks she'd already downed. She honestly didn't care much for the stuff until recently, and even then she didn't really quite _enjoy_ it. But she was already past the point of caring about the bite and bitterness and nasty fizzy warmth of the evening's drink. Tonight, she was halfway determined to get herself wasted. Why not? It was a celebration, after all.

It had been one year ago that she had first shadowed through the Third Rail, leftover terror in her eyes from the two groups of Super Mutants she had narrowly avoided a run-in with on her inaugural journey to Goodneighbor's front door. From the moment she set foot inside the ramshackle town, Odessa was caught up in a whirlwind of shock after shock. Some sleezer tried to talk her into post-apocalyptic insurance, and then a ghoul dressed up like a goddamn Founding Father swept in and stabbed him in the gut before she could even think to gather her wit and deal with the issue herself. Then she was being ushered inside a bar under the Old State House, and she was struck by how _surreal_ it all was considering the last time she had been down there was to catch a train, but now there was a lounge singer and a bar run by a Mr. Handy with an sassy cockney preset. Then some stranger was blindly waving her toward the VIP room, assuming she was another hire for MacCready. 

"Muh-creed... uhh, _who's_  in the back?" she had asked dumbly, but the stranger was already back to his conversation, and not knowing what else to do with herself, Odessa made her way to the back room that had been pointed out to her.

One year later, and the terror and uncertainty was all but gone from the Vault Dweller's eyes. Instead, there was confidence and a steadfast, unspoken sort of challenge there - a challenge to do something stupid, a challenge to piss her off, a challenge to hurt her, or even dare try to kill her. That last one, she was still scared of, but she wasn't terrified like she used to be. A lot of that was thanks to MacCready. He had saved her from death more times than she could even count anymore. She had even started scratching little tick marks into the barrel of his rifle after every fight that threatened to take one of their lives. He had complained at first, but when she snuck glances at him cleaning his gun at night, she could see him run a calloused thumb slowly down the length of the scarred barrel. It was a ritual to him now, and he no longer complained when she grabbed the barrel of his gun after each skirmish with a pocket knife in one hand and a grin on her blood-splattered face.

"I think this might be the longest I've held a job since the Mayorship," MacCready mused, after a pause. He was holding his alcohol much better than Odessa, but his eyes were a little glassy, nonetheless. He held his beer out over the table, obliging Odessa’s toast with a soft clink of his glass against hers.

"Do you think that's a judgement of your character, or of your employers?" she teased.

"Why don't you tell _me_?" he drawled, uncurling his index finger from his glass to point it knowingly at her.

"I think we can safely say, at this point, that you know what you're doing, Creads." Odessa tried to wink, but her eyelids couldn't decide which one should close and which should stay open, and she ended up blinking, slowly and a little awkwardly. MacCready huffed a little laugh out of his nose and shook his head. She was something else, drunk or not.

"Well, one of us has to keep the other from trying to have drunken fist fights with the Super Mutes." He shrugged, as if this was a known fact, as if this was a common problem that needed to be resolved. Odessa slammed her fist on the table, making everyone around her jump in their seats and throw questioning glances over their shoulders. Charlie's little robot eye lenses narrowed at her from behind the bar before he turned his attention back to reorganizing the liquor bottles on the back shelf.

"That was ONE TIME, MacCready, and I was wearing a power fist," she defended in mock anger. "At least I didn't punch a Deathclaw in the face. _In the face_ , Mac. I almost had a heart attack."

"Yeah, you almost _died_ , Dess," he countered, a little more defensively than he meant. "I've told you, my gun jammed and I couldn't reload and that thing already had your blood on its claws. I wasn't about to let it have all of you."

Odessa desperately wanted to make a jab at the "let it have all of you" line, but it seemed _just_ inappropriate enough to make her hold her tongue. ' _You_  could have all of me,' she wanted to croon playfully. But she and MacCready weren't "a thing," and that was something people who were "a thing" would say to each other. She _wanted_ them to a be "a thing," no doubt, but any time she was brave enough to flirt, MacCready never seemed to reciprocate. He'd clam up and shy away. Odessa assumed it had something to do with his dead wife Lucy, or maybe he just wasn't interested in her like that. But conversations and shared moments, like the ones they were having that night, made her think that maybe there was something there after all. It was frustrating, but he was her best friend, and she wasn't about to ruin that over hurt feelings and a restless libido.

"Hey." MacCready interrupted her thoughts. "Why don't we call it a night? Go back to the room, get some sleep so we can nurse our hangovers in the morning before we head out?"

Odessa considered him for a moment. She had planned to have at least one more beer, chill and enjoy Magnolia's singing a little more before she gave up. But god, if she wasn't exhausted already, and the thought of sleeping in the big double-bed at the hotel was definitely something she had been looking forward to. Tomorrow was the day of her big surprise for MacCready, too, and so far it had taken every ounce of her willpower not to tell him where they were going. As far as he knew, they were heading to Diamond City, then home. It was partially true, but Odessa had a special pit stop planned.

"Alright," she conceded. "You win. Go on and head upstairs, I'll pay Charlie and meet you up there." MacCready, smiling the tiniest sweetest smile, stood and started to make his way past her, but stopped at her side. Odessa, still in her chair, looked up at him questioningly. MacCready's eyes were on the floor, and his hand floated from his side to land softly on her shoulder.

"Thank you for tonight. For the past year." His eyes flitted to hers, then back to the floor, and he felt his neck and face go flush. His hand lingered, as if he meant to say something else, but no words came to him. When he let go, it was almost like he didn't want to, and he let his fingers brush across her shoulder and down her arm to the bend of her elbow before his feet were moving and his hand was no longer in reach of her.

 _'WHAT WAS THAAAAT?'_ Odessa screamed in her head, eyes wide and the fog of drink momentarily lifted in her astonishment. She looked over her shoulder, but the tattered tail of MacCready's duster was already disappearing up the stairway. She turned and eyed the people around her, as if hoping someone could offer her an explanation, but they were all either absorbed in their own conversations or Magnolia’s swaying hips. No one had seen what was so outrageously obvious to her. Shellshocked and back to feeling fully drunk, Odessa was only vaguely aware of her actions after that - of standing, pushing in her chair, fishing out a handful of caps as she walked to the bar, hoping she gave Charlie the correct amount, making it across the room and up the stairs without tripping over a chair leg or her own feet. Ham, the smartly-dressed ghoul tending the top, gruffed something about 'her sniper waiting outside,' but she only vaguely registered his words. In that moment, she was more concerned with making it down the street and to the hotel (oh god, and up all those stairs) without making a drunken fool of herself. She had been fine, sitting down in her chair. But standing and walking suddenly made those five beers very very profound and effective, and she silently praised MacCready for calling it an early night.

Odessa opened the heavy metal door to the warm night and dull yellow lights outside, and she was in momentary bliss once the absence of smoke and noise was realized. She adored the Third Rail, but she always forgot how unpleasant all the cigarette and cigar smoke could be, how noisy it was until all the background chatter and music was gone. She leaned against the door until it shut behind her, and then started forward, her left hand dragging along the tiled wall to keep herself steady as she left the entrance and turned the corner toward the Rexford. Her eyes were glued to the ground, watching for uneven bricks, when she realized too late that she was walking right into someone.

She was going slow enough that there was no real collision, but she still swayed on the spot, and the person she stopped right up against steadied her, strong hands gripping her upper arms firmly.

"Hey, there she is. You okay?"

Whatever strange moment had happened inside, MacCready seemed to be over it. He bent his knees a little, slumping his body so he could look her in the eyes. A cigarette stuck out of the corner of his mouth, smoking and aglow, and his brows were raised a little in concern. Odessa looked at him, somewhat dumbstruck, and nodded. His face was so close to hers, and his hands still held her steady at the arms. His thumbs were doing that thing of his, brushing up and down against the fabric of her shirt as he waited for her to answer.

"I guess I had more beers than I thought." The words were a struggle, but they made it out. MacCready nodded, stubbed his cigarette against the wall, then turned and crouched down low in front of her and made a little upward flicking gesture with his fingers.

"Come on, Boss. I'll give you a ride. No charge." Odessa didn't need to be encouraged. She draped herself languidly across his back, arms looping across his collarbone where she knew she wouldn't be choking him. He grabbed her thighs and stood, hoisting her up a little to adjust her placement against his back. They had done this a lot, but always when she was hurt or too exhausted to make the last leg of a trip. She fit against him much better without all her leather armor on, and MacCready tried to ignore the feeling of her body flush against his, her crotch right against the small of his back, her breasts rubbing against...

"You're sweet, MacCready, you know that?" she murmured. Her eyes were halfway closed, her chin resting on his shoulder. She wasn't so drunk that she didn't know what she was saying, but she was definitely drunk enough to say the things she had been wanting to. "You complain a lot, but you're always real sweet. And you take good care of me."

"You've got the caps, I've got the compassion," he joked, trying hard not to be flustered by drunken confession time.

"Stoppit," she commanded, knocking her head against his for lack of better means of retaliation. "I mean it, Mac. That's why I'm doing th' thing fer youuu. You're a good man. You deserve it."

The thing? What thing? The drinks they just had? That's the only _thing_ she had done for him recently, of note.

"Umm... thank you. You're good to me too, Dess. That's why I keep you alive and give you piggy back rides." Her arms tightened briefly against his chest and her body shifted upward a little. MacCready assumed she was adjusting herself, maybe even giving him an awkward hug from behind, but then her lips pressed softly against his face, right under his cheekbone, and there they lingered until she slumped back down a little and buried her face into his scarf and neck with an exhaled sigh of breath.

Piggy back rides were nothing new, but THAT... that was definitely new.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, blinking at the Triggermen across the street who were eyeing him with dumb smirks on their faces, but Odessa didn't say another word. Her breathing was steady and a little loud, and MacCready could only guess that she had fallen asleep already. She WOULD do something like that. She was always touching his hand or his arm and then pretending like it didn't mean anything - like any other person in the Commonwealth would do that when she was obviously the only one who did.

He tightened his grip on her thighs a little, his thumbs caressing the taut fabric of her worn-out jeans just as they had when he steadied her by the arms minutes ago, and he started down the street toward the Rexford. He shared nods with Old Lady Clair behind the front desk (thank GOD they had paid earlier), and made his way, step by step, up to their room. It was a tough trip for a half-drunk man hauling a fully-drunk woman on his back, and at one point he heard her mumble "sorry," but nothing else.

When he got to their door, he bent over awkwardly at the hips so that he could dig in his pocket for the room key without Odessa sliding off his back. It was a struggle, but it was do-able, and once inside he hooked the door with his foot and kicked it shut behind him. The commotion woke Dess up, and she patted his chest to let him know he could let her down.

She slid to the floor, one hand trailing down his arm until it was left gripping his wrist for support. MacCready looked down at her over his shoulder, not daring to move, though every nerve in his body screamed at him to face her fully, to take her in his arms, to hold her face and kiss it if she'd let him.

Instead, he opened his hand and faced his palm upward, offering it to her if she wanted it. She didn't move for a while, but finally, FINALLY he felt her grip loosen on his wrist, and her fingers crept into his open palm where they balled into a loose fist. He closed his hand around hers loosely, and that's when her fingers uncurled and pushed his hand back open enough for her to thread her fingers through his.

Still, MacCready stood there, too afraid to move. Too afraid to turn and look her in the eyes. Surely she could hear his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. It was quiet in the room, aside from the distant, muffled sound of the radio playing from someone’s room down the hallway.

"Why is this happening so slowly?" The way she asked, her voice small and apprehensive behind him, nearly broke his heart, but as always, her words were just cryptic enough that he wasn't sure if she was talking about immediate events or their relationship as a whole. His concern made him turn to her finally, but she took a step into him and hid her face in his chest, their hands still linked. Her free hand came up and gently took hold of the lapel of his jacket, and MacCready stood wordlessly for a moment. It wasn't so much that he didn't know how to answer her, but he didn't understood why she was suddenly so intimate with him, if that's what you would call it. I mean, it was definitely the alcohol, but she had been drunk before and hadn't been nearly this sappy and small and seemingly sad.

And touchy.

"I just want to make sure you're okay first," he answered quietly, hoping it was what she was looking for, or at least acceptable to her. Just as Odessa had been concerned about MacCready’s dead wife, MacCready had been concerned about Odessa’s dead husband, who had only been out of her life a little over a year at this point. She didn’t talk about him much, but no one can watch their spouse die and not be impacted for the long-run. "You also had like, twelve beers. You're a machine," he joked to cover his tracks if needed. She smiled wide against his chest, not too drunk to know he was bullshitting her, and she punched him lightly with the hand that was still holding onto his jacket. Without giving himself a chance to second-guess himself, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him though there was no space between them to spare. Odessa hummed her approval, allowing herself to sink into him further, breathing deep all the dried sweat and grime and old blood and oil caked into his clothing.

"I'm okay, Creads," she finally answered, looking up at him. "I have been. For a while now." Her smile faded, and her brows turned down, and something that hinted at bad times ahead washed over her face, now growing clammy by the second.

"I take that back, I'm not okay," she blurted, rushing away from him and to the bathroom. MacCready's hand was suddenly cold and a little damp where hers had been, and for several moments he stood there trying to process what all had just happened - so much and yet so little, everything and yet nothing. Something had changed between the two of them, but he still wasn't sure where they stood with each other. No worse than before, at least, but how much better? He was so close to kissing her before she rushed away. He had already made up him mind that he was going to do it, and she would have let him, dammit.

The sound of Odessa retching into the toilet brought him to the present, and he hurried to the open bathroom door to check on her.

"You need me to hold your hair back, orrrr...?" He was always awful in these situations, wanting to help but not wanting to intrude on the semi-private moment that hurling tended to be.

"Just uhhh... uff. Damp towel, please," she groaned into the toilet bowl, and MacCready quickly obliged, grabbing a rag and running it under the sink before retreating back to the doorway, wiping his hands nervously on his pants. "Sorry, Mac. Go on to bed without me, I'll be okay here in a sec."

MacCready hesitated, but obeyed. Boss always knew best.

"Just yell if you need me, Dess. I'll leave some water for you by the bed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She stepped out of the office, suddenly feeling very sheepish and uncertain about her great plan. This was too much. She should've just let him find the other costume and have his fun with it, but up to this point, she had imagined them both having a good laugh at each other before scrounging around for any surviving comics, then changing back into their gear and heading out.
> 
> She was halfway to him and debating going right back to the office when he stepped out from behind the backdrop, Grognak's axe now replaced with the Shroud's silver SMG in his hands. It didn't stay there long once he saw her, though, and the gun dropped to the wood floor with a heavy clatter at his feet.

When MacCready woke up the next morning, he was pleased to find that his head wasn't pounding nearly as badly as he thought it would be. Bless calling it an early night. The taste in his mouth was pretty atrocious, though, and he made a move to get up and wash his mouth out, but he felt something pull him back down at the waist. He rolled over onto his back a little, trying to see what he was caught on, only to find that he had somehow become Odessa's little spoon.

"Oh, Jesus," he whispered to himself, lifting the sheets to make sure all clothing was present and accounted for (it was). He also found Odessa's arm draped across his midsection, and her leg was hooked around one of his too. He wanted to make a joke, ask her if she realized what she was doing, but he also wanted to be selfish and just enjoy the moment. And he did. He lowered the sheets, laid his head back down on the pillow, and his free hand (the other was pinned between Dess and his body) came up to lightly grip her forearm. She made a little noise in her throat, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt, and she buried her face a little more into the muscle of his arm. MacCready grinned to himself and stroked her forearm with his thumb.

They could have this, every day, if they'd just get over whatever hangup was keeping it from happening. It seemed like they were on track to overcoming that hurdle last night, but he could never know if she'd keep it going or if she'd back off. He'd learned to live in the moment with her – to enjoy their moments when he could, and wait for them when he couldn't. MacCready was a patient man.

"Oh god, sorry. Sorry, MacCready." Odessa was awake, and judging by her expression, a little more than embarrassed to find herself draped halfway over him. He let her pull away, but he didn't lift his hand as she reclaimed her arm, letting his fingers drag down the length of it, down to her fingers. She pushed herself up on stiffened arms and regarded him for a moment, wondering if he was going to pull her back down to him, and for a moment he thought about it. He also thought that she might decide to slug him for being too touchy now that they weren't drunk anymore.

"You feeling any better? I meant to check back up on you last night, but I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow." MacCready sat up, running a hand through his hair self-consciously, wishing he had just pulled her back down to him after all. One of these days, he promised himself, he was going to stop thinking and stop wishing and just start DOING.

Odessa shed the blankets off her back and pulled her legs underneath her, sitting cross-legged, facing MacCready. "Yeah, yeah, I was fine after you left. Hardly any headache this morning either, somehow." She grinned, mirroring his previous shyness by combing her hair through her fingers. "Look, Creads, I'm sorry for being a mess last night. I don't ever mean for you to babysit me. I wanted us both to have a good evening, not just me."

"Hey, stop. I had a great time last night. Cross my heart, wouldn't change a thing about it. I mean, I'd change the part where you yakked, for your sake, but otherwise it was stellar."

"Yeah, I'd change that too. You're a good man, MacCready." Odessa hesitated, then leaned forward quickly before she could change her mind, placing one palm against his cheek and turning his face toward hers so that their lips connected precisely how she wanted them to. She knew it was mean to kiss him out of the blue like that, and right on the lips, but she was tired of being coy and settling for his cheek in the few moments she dared. She was also terrified that their relationship was bound to that of employer and employee, though he rarely called her “Boss” anymore, and she pulled away after a few seconds, eyes suddenly fixated sternly on her lap.

"You've been saying that a lot lately,” he whispered, eyes wide and locked on hers, silently willing her to look at him again, kiss him again, heck, ANYTHING again, just so long as he had more of her.

"And I mean it every time. Now get dressed. We need to get a move on." She vaulted out of the bed before she could embarrass herself further, and MacCready was left hoping they didn’t regress from this point forward, or else it was going to be a long, awkward walk back home.

\-----

"Uhhhh, Boss? We usually keep going down this street before we turn right."

Odessa grinned smugly to herself. She had managed to keep their little detour a secret, and MacCready picked up on it exactly when she thought he would. Even better, they had easily fallen back into their usual rapport after leaving Goodneighbor. "Don't worry, Mac, little detour is all," she sang.

He frowned a little, but didn't question her. He assumed it was a new dead drop she hadn't mentioned, so he kept his mouth shut. But when she came to a stop in front of a mailbox-less building twenty minutes later, arms folded over her armored chest and a smug grin on her face, he was stricken as 100% confused.

"Diiiid you forget to tell me something? Did I forget? What is this?" He looked up at the building finally, and the blue door and faded yellow "HUBRIS" above it finally registered, and he took a step backward, hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his back, though he knew better than anyone a sniper rifle would’ve been useless inside the shop.

"Boss!" he hissed, looking at her frantically. "You didn't tell me we were clearing ferals today."

"Keep your gun on, bud, it should be cleared already," she said calmly. She should have known that MacCready, of all people, would have knowledge of Hubris, especially with it being so close to Goodneighbor, considering he had lived there for a while before she stumbled head-first into his life. But she also knew that its reputation as a feral hive preceded it, and MacCready choked up around ferals, understandably. "I called in a favor to Hancock. His people should have cleared it out yesterday."

"So you..." MacCready started, struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. He was honestly still trying to understand why they were here instead of on their way to Diamond City, but he was starting to get a clue. "You mean... you had this place cleared out? For _me_?"

"Yeah! Whaddya think? I told Hancock not to let his guys take anything, but I don't think they're into this stuff anyway. I'll take point, in case there's any stragglers in there, unless you wanna wait out here for the all-clear."

" _Heck_ no, I'm going in there with you!" he exclaimed, his inner child fully visible on his bright-eyed face. "I just... I can't believe this, Dess! You're - I can't - when you - ohmygod." He took a big breath and let it out in a loud woosh, nearly skipping into step behind Odessa as she walked backward toward the door, grinning at him, still relishing every bit of his expression. Her shotgun was already out, but her face held zero apprehension, only glee. This was the Christmas morning surprise that she had always imagined giving Shaun, had that not been taken from her, but she wasn't thinking about Shaun right now.

Odessa opened the door, just enough to fit in her head and the barrel of her shotgun, and sang out a loud "HEYOOO!" to the hopefully-empty shop. She stood there, waiting for what felt like the longest time, ears straining to pick up the sound of shuffling feet or feral gibberish, but the coast seemed legitimately clear. She pushed the door fully open, stepping inside and peering through all the dust particles floating through the air. Aside from the occasional blood splatter and errant ghoul finger or piece of bloody flesh, the place was clear of bodies. Hancock's men had gone so far as to move the bodies out of view, for which she was grateful. There were even a few gas lanterns left burning in the darker areas.

She swung around, arms open wide in invitation. MacCready was stationed in the doorway, hesitant, but at her gesture he stepped inside, his excitement now suppressed under a layer of optimistic apprehension.

"Come on in, Creads. Have a look around. I'm going to run up and make sure the upper levels are clear. I'll see you in a bit. Knock yourself out!" And she turned and bounded up the stairs before he could even think to protest. She banged the barrel of her gun against the walls and made a general ruckus as she went along, hoping to bring any stray ghouls to her before she stumbled into one by surprise. By the time she had done a quick scout of the second floor and had her sight on the stairway leading to the third, she heard MacCready exclaim loudly from below, "Oh my GOD!" followed by the sound of glass breaking, and then his feet thundering up the stairs. She rushed back toward him, taking care not to fall through the botched floor. She had a good idea of what he had found, but uncertainty terrified her just enough to make sure it hadn't been a ghoul he was being loud about.

He met her at the top of the stairs, eyes full of stars, his hands grasping a battle axe with all the mirth and reverence of someone who had just found the Holy Grail.

"DESS. This is Grognak's axe. Grog. Nak's. Axe!" His face was split by a toothy grin, rotten ones and all, and she had to smile at the fact that he didn't try to hide them behind a close-lipped grin like he usually did.

"Easy there boy," she chuckled, gesturing for him to follow her. "There should be more upstairs." MacCready bounced on his toes before following after her, taking care to avoid the trouble spots in the floor despite his overwhelming excitement.

When Odessa came to the top of the stairs at the third floor, she raised her hand to signal him to hold. Her eyes scanned the floor, then the sound booth behind the glass to their right. There was the unmistakable splatter of glowing green blood, but nothing alive to worry about.

"What is this?" MacCready's awed voice was right in her ear, making her jump. She turned and slapped him on the arm in retaliation for startling her, but she continued out onto the floor without any more fuss.

"It's where they used to tape the old-"

"SILVER SHROUD!" he cut her off, placing a hand on her back to steady her as he brushed past toward the little stage in the corner of the room, where a trenchcoat-and-hat-clad mannequin stood waiting for someone more capable than he to be the hero the Commonwealth deserved. MacCready fumbled excitedly with the sash at the waist, trying to simultaneously shrug off his duster and free the trenchcoat. Odessa snaked to the other side of the room, stashed something under her arm, then ghosted toward the little office in the corner behind the stairs. As soon as she was out of MacCready's line of sight, she went to work stripping off her leather armor and the rest of her clothes. She peeked her head out the door once, instructing him to check behind the backdrop, before disappearing again.

She was terrified he'd show up in the doorway before she was done, but she was lucky to be making her final adjustments when she finally heard him make Discovery Number 3.

"No freakin' way. Dess! Ohmygod. DESS!" She stepped out of the office, suddenly feeling very sheepish and uncertain about her great plan. This was too much. She should've just let him find the other costume and have his fun with it, but up to this point, she had imagined them both having a good laugh at each other before scrounging around for any surviving comics, then changing back into their gear and heading out.

She was halfway to him and debating going right back to the office when he stepped out from behind the backdrop, Grognak's axe now replaced with the Shroud's silver SMG in his hands. It didn't stay there long once he saw her, though, and the gun dropped to the wood floor with a heavy clatter at his feet.

Odessa stood before him, wearing nothing but a belted loincloth and leather bra, looking shy for the first time since MacCready could recall. His mouth fell open and he slowly removed the ridiculous black costume hat from his head, as if that would help him see her better.

"Is that... is that Grognak's costume?"

"Dammit, I knew I should've just-" she muttered, but stopped suddenly because MacCready had covered the space between them in three giant strides, and his hands were holding her face and his mouth was on hers, and she couldn't apologize for being dumb if she tried because they were KISSING, boy howdy were they ever kissing. His hands were tangled in her hair, and her hands were on his chest, then on his back, suddenly so eager to feel all the lithe muscles that she knew so well at this point, but only by sight from stolen glances as he had undressed or bathed out in the open while they were on the road together.

They parted for a moment, both breathless, glassy eyes locking as he pushed his forehead against hers. Simultaneously, wordlessly, they asked each other's permission, and it was answered in kind.

She made quicker work of the trenchcoat than he had when he was trying to get it off the mannequin, and she was already wearing so little that he helped her out by kicking off his boots and socks and shedding his pants. His boxers and undershirt trailed after as she backed him toward an old wooden chair near the stage, and their lips disconnected a second time as he fell back into the seat. It was his turn to be embarrassed, realizing that this was the first time she had seen him fully naked, complete with quickly-stiffening cock. But she didn't let her eyes wander much as she straddled him and settled down in his lap, bypassing his lips for his neck, and he groaned loudly to feel her suck and kiss at the skin under his jaw. His hands hovered in the air momentarily, unsure of where they should go, before they found a home on her hips... then thighs... then back up and underneath the tattered green skirt until some sort of attached cloth panty impeded his progress.

He growled his frustration and settled for dragging his teeth across her collarbone, and she lifted her mouth off his neck to arch her head back and moan so so sweetly. MacCready grinned, proud to have elicited such a reaction from her, and worked his mouth up to her exposed throat, kissing and biting where he dared, still smiling to himself. Each time his teeth met her skin she either moaned, gasped, or rolled her hips against him, and he couldn't freakin' _believe_ this was actually happening, and his hands wandered from her thighs to brush up her sides and underneath the leather bra and bless it all, she wasn't wearing her regular bra underneath. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs sweeping against her hardening nipples. That one made her gasp _and_ buck her hips, and he responded by rolling her nipples between his fingers and kissing at the soft flesh of her breasts that the bra didn't cover.

Odessa was fully grinding him now, his cock hard under the soft cloth of the costume's panties, and MacCready knew he should drag this out, he KNEW it, but there was so much desperation in both their kisses that he knew she wouldn't grudge him this. His hand went to his cock, and he somehow managed to push the panties aside and guide himself into her with one fluid movement and oh god, she was so wet and warm and FUCK he was seeing stars just from stretching her out this first time. Odessa moaned so deep in her throat it could have come from her very soul, and she finally stopped rocking her hips as MacCready inched into her bit by bit, until he was at the end of the road and she could feel her body doing whatever it needed to reshape around that motherfucking SPLENDID cock of his.

They looked at each other again, both eyes half-lidded, faces glistening with sweat already, one more wordless granting of permission from each of them. MacCready wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, and she in turn buried her hands in the shaggy hair at the base of his skull, her short nails scraping his scalp ever so lightly as they both settled into each other, MacCready pumping his hips and Odessa matching his pace as well as she could, helping him drive further and deeper and harder into her. His hands clawed at her back, her hands clawed at his, and at some point he figured out how to take the leather bra off and neither of them could give a shit where the thing ended up because MacCready was sucking and biting at her nipples and she didn't know whether she was going to ascend to heaven or come crashing down into a million broken pieces from all of this.

And then MacCready shifted, hands gripping her ass, and he was standing with her still wrapped around him, but his lips had moved back up to hers and neither of them was willing to break that seal. She hooked her ankles at his back, and he carried her forward to a desk left out on the floor, setting her down at the edge and sweeping everything else off that was in reaching distance - the kind of junk that Odessa would probably pack up later for scrap parts - all of it crashing to the old wood floor with enough clamor to make someone passing outside stop and wonder.

She laughed a little against his mouth, pleased with his eagerness and complete lack of shyness for once. She felt him smile back against her lips, and then she felt his tongue sweep her bottom lip and she yielded immediately, opening her mouth for him. She felt his tongue touch hers, just the faintest caress, and she couldn’t help but dive into him, her hand at the back of his head, pushing him forward, encouraging him to be anything but gentle.

In answer, he took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down a little, pulling back so his teeth pulled and scraped at the swelling flesh. Odessa sighed, rolling her hips forward slightly, asking him not to forget about what they had been doing earlier. He pushed himself back into her, having never really left, and Odessa’s mouth opened in a silent moan, eyes closed in her bliss. MacCready’s movements weren’t as needy as before, not as desperate. This wasn’t something he needed to hurry and take before it could run away forever. Odessa was his now, he knew, both of them now finally at the top rung of the ladder they had been climbing for ages, one of them always one or two rungs above or below the other at any given moment.  
  
He ground into her, one hand planted firmly on the desk to leverage himself, the other cupping the side of her face as he continued to kiss the ever-loving glory out of her. He was slow. Deliberate. Deep. He relished the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of her, how every inch was slightly different than the last, and blissfully so. The noises Odessa was making assured him that she felt the same. Her mouth was at his ear now, and he was trying to commit to memory the sound of her raspy breathing, the little hiccups of her breath when he really sank in deep, the breathy moans, the bonus jewel of a quietly growled, “Fuuuuuuuck, Mac…”

She caught his earlobe between her teeth and alternated between nipping and sucking, and his pace quickened and roughened to the point where the desk was scraping bit by bit along the floor, and Odessa’s voice was anything but a whisper anymore. Her hands scrambled against him, unhappy with every hold she found until he finally caught them in his own, guiding one hand to the base of his cock and the other to her own clit. She was surprised at his forwardness, but not at all unhappy with the direction, and she gladly began to make little circles on her swollen bundle of nerves while simultaneously stroking and squeezing MacCready each time he pulled out.   
  
"Ugh- I can't-" he started, breathlessly, and she only nodded _yes yes yes yes yes it's okay, me too,_ and MacCready felt himself fly into oblivion, his hips bucking weakly as his orgasm spilled inside of her. Odessa followed not far behind, and he felt her walls convulse around him. They were both left, then, sweaty and breathing heavily, his forehead resting on her shoulder and her head leaned sweetly against his, dragging her nails lightly in little patterns over his back as if they had done this a hundred times before and now they were simply enjoying their post-coitus routine.

"I'm gonna have a hard time seeing Grognak the same way after this," he finally joked into her shoulder, still breathless, earning himself a playful smack on the back. He pulled out, chuckling to himself, trying to recall if he’d seen any other clothing or fabric around they could use to clean themselves up with, trying not to look as shy as he felt, and Odessa reached behind her and offered him an old red oven mitt, feeling every bit as sheepish herself.

“Does this mean you’re gonna get a hard-on every time a find a new Grognak comic?” she said slyly, grinning so big it made her eyes squint. MacCready har-har’d her joke, but he ended up raising his brows and shrugging with a thoughtful frown as he cleaned himself, as if the thought wasn’t so ludicrous that he couldn’t see it happening.

“His tits _are_ pretty nice,” he hummed, eyeing hers appreciatively as she slid off the desk and started digging in the drawers for another piece of scrap cloth.

“God, I hope you’re talking about me and not the actual dude,” she plead, inspecting an old rag she had found. MacCready was already picking his clothes off the floor one piece at a time and putting them back on. She watched him as she cleaned herself, no shyness in the way she watched his lean muscles move and stretch as he pulled his shirt over his head, and in the way she studied his dusting of chest hair that trailed down his thin stomach and grew thicker before disappearing into his pants. When she realized he wasn’t moving anymore, her eyes darted back up to his face, a cocky grin poised and ready for her guilty eyes.

“Were you watching me?” he teased, throwing his mitt to the side and sashaying toward her like an absolute dork trying to be super sexy. She scoffed, throwing her dirty rag at his feet and turning to retrieve her clothes from the closet she had left them in. MacCready watched her walk away, appreciating her VERY womanly silhouette framed by the daylight that streamed through the windows. “Because I’m sure as heck watching you, Boss.”

“Robert MacCready, you are _scandalous_ ,” she chided with a little frown, scurrying the rest of the way into the room. She chose to redress herself in there, denying him the show she had enjoyed from him. Even so, he was in the doorway before she could finish, but she only smiled a little to herself. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? You know you can’t go slapping my ass in front of Preston or anything like that.”

“Oh, I’ll keep it to the bedroom,” he promised. His eyes were on hers now, giving her body a break from having to be on show. He was finally starting to understand that this wasn't a fluke or one-time deal. They were locked into each other now, and as long as he didn't screw things up, they could have this again. “But I cannot in good conscious guarantee that I won’t pull you into one of the empty houses when no one’s looking.”

“Only if I get to watch you take your shirt off at least once a day,” she countered, tying her boots and standing upright before him. The long-term reality of things was starting to sink in for Odessa too, and she regarded him with a softer expression than she had offered anyone in a long while. This was it. They were "a thing" now. She could crack the inappropriate jokes and kiss him without having to worry whether he would be okay with it or not. She could finally lose herself in him and hold his hand and he'd hold hers back. It was all hers now. _He_ was hers, but the reality was that he always had been.

MacCready had been considering her proposition, his jaw jutting out thoughtfully as he traced the lines of his facial hair. “Deal,” he finally said with a nod, holding out his hand as if he actually intended to shake on it, like they were exchanging caps over some haggled brahmin meat.

Odessa eyed his outstretched hand, one brow quirked, but she fell for the trap and placed her hand in his, and was only marginally surprised when he tightened his grip and pulled her to his chest, arms wrapping around her so she couldn't shy away. She smiled at his trick, reaching up on her toes to kiss him on the lips, then the cheek, then the neck.

“Come on, Mac. Let’s go find some comics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos are appreciated since this is baby's first fanfic (or smut, for that matter).  
> Kudos means I'll be encouraged to write more!
> 
> If you see any problems or typos, please feel free to let me know!
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr @mentats-ghoul-herself


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